


Sometimes they just left

by NotWithABangButWithAWhimper



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, happy!sam, possessive!dean, schmoopy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotWithABangButWithAWhimper/pseuds/NotWithABangButWithAWhimper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it gets to be too much, sometimes the boys just left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Sam Breaks

Sometimes they just left.

They did it at inconspicuous moments, usually, like at the end of a hunt they would just take a few extra days, or they’d cobble together “evidence” and convince John to let them go alone. But sometimes, Sam just needed to leave, unable to live under a man who he was undoubtedly taking after, but had different ideals.

When Sam had looked into Dean’s eyes earlier, Dean had seen it. The despairing need to just get away, to not be here anymore, and to just be held and loved in a way that neither one had ever known before they broke down and gave it to each other. To be loved in a way they needed. His eyes were deep and sad, but still so breathtakingly beautiful; Dean nauseated himself with how much he liked them. Sam’s eyes had this ability to speak for him, and it’s why Dean gets so uncomfortable with having emotional moments with him. If Sam’s eyes can do that, why would he need to talk about it? Dean can already tell you exactly what Sam’s feeling.

“Just wait. We’ll figure out a way to go.” Dean whispered, in stolen moments in the bathroom, cupping Sam to his body, pulling Sasquatch down to his level. The way Sam nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in, and wrapped his long arms around Dean’s torso told him he’d read Sam’s eyes correctly. Dean’s back had to arch to meet him, and it always made him feel ridiculously like a chick, but also kind of, god I hate feeling this bullshit, nice and -

“Okay. Thank you,” Sam whispered back. Dean thought about how odd they must look, a man a good 4 inches taller than him, with crazily long arms and legs, wrapping himself around a small-by-comparison man who absolutely refused to have chick flick moments. He smiled, stifling the movement of his chest as he tried not to laugh. Sam felt it anyway and stood up, “Yeah I’m big. I’m also proportional. And you like it.” and sauntered away, now happy that he knew they’d be alone soon, leaving Dean to look at the broad expanse of his shoulders, the long ropes of his arms, and the tightness of his…Jesus, that needs to wait till later. Can’t really make a plan with that head, now can I?

He didn’t need to, though, because John picked a great weekend to be on a bender. He spent the weekend down at the bar in town and the shitty motel next to it. So Sam and Dean got to get away, in their own (week-to-week rented) house.

“Dean, can’t we please leave? This place has some…not awesome memories for us.”

“We’ve lived here for like, two months!”

Sam pointed to the kitchen floor, by the dish washer, “That’s where dad beat the shit out of me the first week here. The bruises are still on my ribs.”

He pointed to the living room couch, “That’s where I walked in on him and a hooker he was calling ‘Mary,’”

The hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom, “He slammed me against the wall last week, threatening to leave my ass behind. Telling me he’d never wanted me. That I was the reason for her death.”

He pointed downwards, to the spot they were standing, “This is where he passed out drunk last night, mumbling and pissing himself.”

Dean stood in the kitchen, arms crossed and hip tilted against the counter. He was in jeans, boots, his undershirt, a green v neck, a white and green plaid shirt unbuttoned, and his jacked lying on the counter next to him. Sam was looking at him, mild emotions warring in his eyes. He was trying to be tough and hurt, Sam was trying to be damaged and convince Dean to leave, but his lust for Dean was showing through and making that a difficult task.

Dean smirked, suddenly realizing that all those reasons are exactly why they should stay here. Dean wanted to slide his mouth and lips along every hurt, physical and emotional. Dean wanted to smooth his hand over any pain. He had a new goal over the weekend, what little time they’ve had: He wanted to make Sam whimper, beg, laugh, or lose it on every spot he had ever had a bad moment. He wanted to fill Sammy’s life, fill Sammy’s moments with happy ones, lusty ones, ones that made him blush and half hard in public. The next time their dad was in a puking, pissing pile on the floor, pathetic in every way, Dean wanted Sam to be able to look at the wall behind him and remember when Dean had pushed him against it, and be able to look away from their dad with a smile. That’s what Dean needed.

So Dean held out his hand.

And, because Sammy always followed Dean, he took it.

   
Half an hour later, Sam found himself on the couch, writhing underneath Dean. Dean knelt over him, heady with the sensations of Sammy, his Sammy, only ever mine, under him, begging for him.

“I, I need, god, Dean, I need you, please, fucking please, oh god…”

Dean’s hands were curled behind Sammy’s neck, and underneath his balls, cupping them and rolling them in his palm. He was gazing, enraptured, by his younger brother. His gaze fell on Sam’s strong neck, the tendons prominent as he begged and arched his back, straining to get closer to Dean. His shoulders were wide and cut, dips and bulges in the skin shining because of the sheen of sweat on Sam had acquired over the last half hour. His chest was…gorgeous. Jerk off material all by itself, and it has been used as such, Dean laughed to himself. His laughter died, mouth dry, when he looked farther, to the lines of Sam’s hips, skinny and leading perfectly down from the abs held taut with need at the moment, the muscles that were flexing and undulating under Dean right now, begging for his cock to be touched. Looking at the rough, curling hair between Sam’s legs, Dean couldn’t help but lick his lips, unconsciously breathing in deeply, thinking of what it’d feel like to have his nose pressed into that dark, thick hair, how long it’d been, how much he was craving the musk of arousal that practically dripped off Sammy.

He moved down, taking his hand from Sam’s neck, flattening his palms against Sam’s thighs. “Fuck, Dean…” Sam groaned, voice completely wrecked with lust, with need for his brother, and then it was right in front of Dean’s face. Sam’s cock…god he’s…well, he’s right about being proportional…Dean buried his face into the joint between Sam’s inner thigh and his hips, breathing the smell of Sam’s cock deep, his mouth watering, lips parting and breath coming more harshly now. Lifting his head slowly, Dean dragged his tongue up in a stripe to the tip of Sam’s cock. Sam gasped, drawing in air like he’d been shocked, his hips bucking up, dragging the spit-slicked cock against Dean’s chin.

Unable to hold himself back anymore, Dean pulled the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth. The head was warm and sticky with precome leaking onto Dean’s tongue. He held Sammy’s hips down, not letting him move an inch, as he lavished attention on the hard dick in his mouth. Taking as much as he could, he sucked hard, hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing his head quickly. Sam was moaning insatiable noises, incomprehensible half formed words falling off his lips. His dull nails scratched at the crown of Dean’s head, urging him on, to take deeper, suck harder. As his throat opened up, as he got used to this again, Dean did just that. Eventually he was taking Sam’s monster cock all the way into his throat, holding his breath, and burying his nose in his baby boy’s pubic hair. Sam’s breath was coming in shallow pants,

“Dean, I…uh, I’m not going to...I can’t last, not when you do this –“ before he trailed off into a moan again, as Dean swallowed around him. Not letting up at all, Dean continued to swallow and bob his head around Sam’s length, until Sam was clutching his hair and shoulders with a vice like grip, his body taut, he was on the edge and literally begging to be let over. “Oh my fucking god, Dean, Dean please, oh my god, please, PLEASE let me come, I need it, I need to come in your mouth, please, baby, Dean, big brother, oh god please…” he let out a final shudder and a short moan, almost a scream, before his body went loose and limp as his cock deflated in his brother’s mouth. Coming up for air, Dean smirked and used his thumb to wipe a stray bit of come off his lips, quickly sucking it into his mouth again. Now that Sam was boneless and satiated, Dean could have his fun. Flipping his baby onto his stomach, he barely got a whimper of protest from Sam. Dean was too far gone to last long now; his cock was straining at his jeans, so tight they were painful now, as he throbbed in rhythm with the echoes of Sam’s moans.

Spreading his brother’s ass wide, a handful of each cheek, Dean leant down and spit onto Sam’s curling entrance, laving it with his tongue up and down the crack. Leaning back up quickly, Dean had his hand cinched tight around the base of his cock, trying not to come from just the sight of Sam’s pink, sexy, fluttering hole. Gently, he stroked from base to tip and felt his arousal flare to full force again, his cock set back to throbbing. He straddled his brother’s legs, placing his dick in the dip of his baby boy’s ass crack and started to softly ride it. Sam was cooing underneath him, begging for Dean to mark his skin, “Come on me, big brother, please, god I need to feel your come on my skin, it’s so fucking sexy, please…” and Dean wasn’t going to last long to begin with, but with words like that falling out of Sam’s mouth…

With a shout, and a hand tightening in Sam’s hair, bringing him up to an impossible arch, Dean came. Dean came and came, his cock shooting up Sam’s back until Sam felt soaked and thoroughly covered and used in the most wonderful way.

Holding himself up with the back of the couch, Dean reached for the nearest cloth he could find – a crappy blanket they’d gotten at the Wal-Mart down the street – to wipe Sammy’s back off. Once he was clean, Dean stayed up long enough to press a soft kiss between Sam’s shoulder blades before he collapsed, muscles quivering and tired from how hard he just came. Sam rolled onto his side, and gathered Dean into his arms. Dean may be the one who gives Sam what he needs physically, but Sam knows for a fact that he’s the only one Dean lets hold him like this. Naked and vulnerable, emotionally and physically spent, with unadulterated affection, small kisses all over his face and neck, and gentle comfort in the sensation of warm skin blanketing his. They fell asleep quickly, exhausted and happy, finally relaxed and alone.


	2. Lovers to Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning

When Sammy stirred in his arms, Dean finally roused himself fully from sleep. He woke up to his brother mouthing softly at his neck, smiling against his skin, and he couldn’t help the grin that broke out, tasting sweet on his lips. ”Hey,” he whispered, his voice husky and deep with sleep, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love the shudder that wound its way through Sammy’s slack muscles and down his spine. Groaning, Sammy pulled up and away from him, wincing at the dried remnants of come and spit, basically the reminder of their previous night, clung to them and didn’t want them to separate.

“Shower?” Sammy grunted,

“Definitely.”

After a few moments of continuing to just lie there, the boys managed to ease their bodies off the couch, walking buck naked to the bathroom. Dean eyed Sam’s ass the whole way, a fact Sammy was only too aware of, he thought.

“Swing your hips any more and other people besides me will know you’re the girl in this relationship,” he tossed out, grinning happily.

“Right Dean, which one of us had a dick down his throat last night?”

“Those little whimpers I was getting didn’t sound particularly manly then, Samantha.”

“You lasted about six seconds grinding my ass, jerk.”

“And you liked it, bitch.” Sam just smiled in response, all but bouncing his way to the bathroom and getting Dean’s heart to skip half a beat, before he squelched the emotion. No point in getting too deep in this Dean, all y’all get is stolen moments.

There really was nothing in the world that compared to a happy Sammy. His eyes were so bright, almost lighter in color even, his shoulders relaxed, and he lost the pitiable, lost, take-care-of-me look that had women all over him, and had Dean glancing the other way with his jaw clenched. Sam’s smile was wide and genuine, loving to a blinding degree, and Dean just wanted to bask in it like rays of the sun, as if he never got to see it. _Because I don’t, dammit. Not enough. ___

Stepping into the shower next to his brother, Dean reached down and rolled Sam’s balls in his palm, just to get a reaction out of the kid. Sam didn’t jump as much as he’d hoped, but he did get a pretty decent Bitch Face Level 4, and a “Don’t start something you don’t plan on finishing there, babe.”

The pet name did not, under any circumstances, make Dean’s heart skip a beat. It was something else. It was all the cheeseburgers and his ripe old age of thirty. Had to be.  
When Dean stopped zoning out, Sam was soaping him up. The rough hands slid easily, laden with suds, over the strong muscles of his shoulders, earning a slight groan from him as they kneaded the flesh.

“Turn around,” Sam whispered, unwilling to make too loud a noise, in case it startled Dean and he snapped out of the tactile reverie he was in.

Complacent, Dean complied. The big hands roamed over his body, kneading and gently loosening the sore muscles, and simply skating softly over the ones that felt fine. It honestly touched Dean that Sam knew his body so well, had been paying such attention as to know where he’d been hurting.


End file.
